The Goddess Trials: Minerva's Revenge
by charmedlion22
Summary: When Clove Kentwell was brutally killed in the 73rd Hunger Games, her best friend swore a vow to return the favor to the district responsible. A year later, her time has come. But will an old friend tear down her walls and force her to remember who she is? Will a new friend bring a change her goal of revenge? Will she survive or will she fall? May the odds be ever in her favor.


**Hello all, and welcome to what will hopefully be the first of my three-part Hunger Games series. But first, a quick note: this is indeed a Cato/OC situation. It's an AU, as in Clove was in the 73rd Hunger Games at age 14, and was brutally killed by a truly sadistic person. Clove's history and character is explored more as this story revolves around her best friend. We get a different view of Clove and District 2 as a whole. While Cato will still have those fun, blood thirsty moments, he'll be a little OOC because the situation has changed. Just wanted to clear that up before any readers mention moments he's not the complete brute he was original written and portrayed as. He'll still be that fighter he is, though. Also, this will be following the movies, with a few book tidbits here and there. **

**(side note: I ship Everlark, so that's the other pairing in this series. Sorry all you Katniss/Gale shippers and Gale fans).**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter! I've been thinking about writing this story for awhile and finally got around to doing so. I only own my OC. Everything else is Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

**_From the Treaty of the Treason:_**

**_In penance for their uprising, _**

**_each district shall offer up_**

**_A male and female between the ages of_**

**_12 and 18 at a public "Reaping."_**

**_These Tributes shall be delivered _**

**_to the custody of The Capitol._**

**_And then transferred to a public arena_**

**_where they will Fight to the Death,_**

**_until a lone victor remains._**

**_Henceforth and forevermore _**

**_this pageant shall be known as_**

**_The Hunger Games._**

* * *

_"Min-mina."_

_"Come on, scream the name little Clove. I want to hear you scream for her."_

_"Mi-mi -"_

_"Louder, little Clove. The louder you scream, the less it'll hurt carving you up. I'm good at carving. Better at skinning, at scaling. You're a slippery little thing, like a fish. Which makes this all the more easy."_

_"Min, I-I'm sorry. Mina."_

_"So close… C'mon, cutie. Scream."_

_"M-m-Minerva!"_

My alarm blares and I shoot up, panting. My whole body is covered in sweat, and when I close my eyes all I see is my best friend's blood. All I can hear is her screaming my name as that sadistic bitch of a Tribute from District 4 brutally and mercilessly cuts her with her victim's own knife. I can see the sun shining off Kai's trident as she holds it to Clove's throat, jamming it in just as soon as she's screamed my name for all of Panem to hear.

I throw off the covers of my small bed and cross over to my apartment's one window, pressing a button to lift the shades. My home is small. One room, with a bed, a kitchen, and an en suite bathroom to the side. Not that it really is much of a home. It's where I eat and sleep, but the rest of the time I'm at the Training Facility. All day. From 5 in the morning to 11 at night. I used to only train from 6 to 9, but after last year's Hunger Games… let's just say I've become more motivated. Not to win, no. I don't care. I don't care much about anything, really, not anymore. Well, except for accomplishing my goal.

Checking the time on the screen by my window, I frown and make a beeline for the bathroom. The ceremony starts later on in the day for District 2, as we're so close to the Capitol. It may appear that I've slept until 4 pm, but I went to bed around 10 this morning, having spent more than 24 hours training, taking a few power naps where I could. So now I have 2 hours to spare until I have to go to the Center Square for the reaping. This year, it's little more than a formality for District 2. At least, for the girls. Because everyone knows the plan. Everyone knows which girl will be entering.

Stripping and turning on the shower I step in. I assume most bathrooms in 2 are a little more luxurious than mine, but I don't care about luxury. I'm just glad I have a shower. I've heard stories about the other Districts when eavesdropping on the peacekeepers. It gets worse the further you get from the Capitol.

After rinsing my hair and mechanically drying myself off, I wrap a scratchy grey robe around my body and walk to the kitchen, wrinkling my nose when I see I only have a serving of oatmeal left. Remind me again why I haven't gone to the food markets?

Oh yeah, because there's no point.

I sigh and heat up my breakfast, sprinkingly in some raisins. Luckily there is a spoonful of brown sugar left in my cupboard, so I pour it on top of my mush and use my spoon to mix it all together. I take the bowl and sit cross-legged on my bed, staring out the window at the mountain my district previously mined in, before it became a military base. I've toured it once, with Clove and the rest of the top training students. It's impressive but… it's tempting fate, building an important facility inside a mountain, isn't it?

After finishing my bland mush I toss the bowl into the sink and walk away, only to realize this could be the last dish I clean. So I return and switch on the water, gently cleaning the ceramic material and soaping it up before rinsing it out once more. Leaving it on the drying rack.

After brushing my teeth and drying my shoulder-length black hair, I leave the thick, straight locks down. Most girls where dresses, even here in the Career District. But I'm not trying to look good for anyone - besides, most dresses on my make me look like a child who developed some curves early on in life. They wear dresses to get the attention of the Capitol. But I don't care about sponsors, or appealing to the audience. I'm entering the 74th Hunger Games for one reason, and one reason alone.

So I pull on my baggy cargo pants, a cropped tight shirt that shows off my abs, and black combat boots. I'm not one for makeup - I know girls who buy products sold by the Capitol, expensive items that make your skin appear like a smooth canvas, mascara to thicken your eyelashes, lipsticks to color your lips. But I prefer it as I am. Tan complexion littered with freckles. Thick dark eyebrows plucked just enough that they aren't wild or overgrown. And I like the small scars that mar my otherwise smooth body.

The only thing I do care about showing off is the tattoo on my left shoulder. It's a clove flower bud, in honor of the girl who was my sister in all but blood. A reminder of who I'm doing this for. After all, she was the only family I had.

Realizing it's time to head out, I carefully turn off the lights in what's been my "home" for nearly three years thanks to the Training Facility. If I don't come back - which I'm not doubting - Clove's parents are going to come by and take whatever they want, sell what they don't. The Kentwells and I are close like that. They even offered to adopt me, but I refused. District 2 is brutal enough without worrying about another kid potentially volunteering for the Games.

Still, it hasn't stopped them. Because Atticus and Tatiana Kentwell are waiting downstairs for me. Only in their early 30s, they've aged in the past year, their hair turning grey in certain parts and wrinkles forming on their foreheads from constant over-thinking. Their eyes sad and exhausted thanks to what that bitch did to their daughter.

"Good evening, Minerva." Atticus greats, bringing me into a fatherly hug. I smile - because that's what people are supposed to do, right? Smile? - and then hug Tatiana, who discreetly wipes away one of her tears.

"Evening, Atticus, Tatiana."

"Well. Shall we walk to the Center?" I nod and stand between them as we join the flock of other kids and adults in District 2. The Capitol requires everyone in their district attend their Reaping, unless on their deathbed.

I wave to a couple of the younger kids, Vulcan and Silvia. They're orphans, just like me. I know in most other districts, kids like me have to fend for themselves. But here, if you prove yourself a worthy fighter, well, District 2 provides you with private housing should you show you've earned it. As my parents were peacekeepers until their deaths, their money was given to me as soon as I left the orphanage at 13. It doesn't cost much for me to live, especially because I buy the bare minimum of food - only what I require to survive. Most times I go over to the Kentwells to eat, so that also helps me save money. I wonder where it'll go when I die, though. I know I asked for it to be given to the people who have helped me through the years, but… when has the Capitol ever listened to the requests of the districts?

As the sky turns purple, yellow, and orange I line up with the other kids to check in, kissing Atticus and Tatiana on the cheeks before heading over. I'll get to see them, before I leave. They've already said they'd come, having known what I was planning to do this Games, right after Clove was killed. We had a deal, me and her. If one of us was reaped or volunteered, the other would not interfere. If one of us was the Victor, the other would not compete in the Games. So I'm not doing this to bring pride to District 2. I'm not even doing this to prove my skills. I'm doing this for her.

I don't even feel the prick on my finger, I'm so focused on my thoughts. I press the blood to the sheet and wait for the woman to scan it. When it beeps, she lets me through and I join the section of 16 year olds.

When I join the rest of the "potential" Tributes, they all look at me. Like I said, they know whose year this is. Most think I'm doing it for glory. The ones who know me know the truth.

I nod to a few of my training mates before my eyes track onto the main stage, two large screens on either side and podium in the middle. Two fish bowls with the names of the District 2 children act as bookends to where the Capitol escort Scylla will give his speech.

Once again, I feel eyes on the back of my head. I look behind me to see the tall blonde staring straight at me, blue eyes vibrant even from where he stands with the other 18-year-old males.

Cato Hadley. An older brother to Clove, and my… well, it doesn't matter, not anymore. Not that we actually were anything. I guess it was just some unspoken thing. We fought constantly, but it was hardly ever malicious. Always banter, you know? I mean, no one can make me lose my temper as fast as he can. Could. Things have been different, since Clove was killed.

_"Hey, Mini, I know I'm sexy, but please try to stay focused. You almost took out Marcus!"_

_"Shut up, Hadley."_

The memory from when we were young used to make me smile. But now, as I said, everything's different.

So I don't smile. I just nod. He frowns, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows. He's telling me I'm an idiot. That I shouldn't do what I plan to.

We don't need to exchange words. Even now, we know each other.

I raise an eyebrow. It's my way of telling him he can't change my mind. So he sighs and looks away, only to glare when a slightly smaller male - Bruno - tries to look at me, too. That makes me roll my eyes and look away.

_Overprotective moron. _

Finally, the doors to the Justice Building open, and six peacekeepers lead District 2's escort to the podium.

Titus is an intensely pale man with red painted lips and dark shadowed eyes. He had grey swirls tattooed all over his body a few years ago, and his hair this year is short, with red and black streaks. He wears a blood-red suit, a black tie, and black platform boots. His nails are clawlike and painted black.

His nails click against the microphone, and he leans in to speak with his accented, baritone voice, his coal-black eyes staring right into our souls. Seriously, there's no white part to his eyes. It's just… black. "Hello. Welcome, welcome." Why is he welcoming us? This isn't his home. "Happy Hunger Games, all, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The kids and adults around me cheer, but I remain silent and stoic. I have no time for fanfare. "Before we begin, a message, from the Capitol." He clears his throat and the cheers die down, each and every one of us staring at a screen. It turns on and the video begins, the standard one every year.

_"War. Terrible war."_ President Snow's voice tells us. _"Widows, orphans, a motherless child."_ I close my eyes as I do at that part, every year, but as I was a baby when my parents died all I have to remember them by is a photo in the archives that I refused to copy._ "This was the uprising that rocked our land.__"_ I open my eyes again to watch the soldiers on the screen march. _"Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them."_ I hide my snort. No, they were oppressed, and chose to rise up against the Capitol. The introduction of the Hunger Games after the rebellion has squashed any restless Panem citizens. Still, even in District 2 where we're treated far better than the others, some keep their hatred for Snow and the Capitol silent, allowing it to burn in them. Like the Kentwells. Like me.

_"Brother turned on brother until nothing remained." _Snow continues narrating, the video shifting from the warzone feed to a field of wheat. _"And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. And the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice." Once again, the people around me cheer. "The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future." _The cheers continue as the Capitol music and video fade, and Titus holds up his hands to cheerfully quiet us, always a peppy man.

"I just love showing you all this video! Your enthusiasm is simply delicious, darlings." My district keeps cheering, but I look behind me to see Cato rolling his eyes before grimly nodding at me. I nod back and face forward, breathing in, then breathing out. "The time has come to select one courageous young man and woman to represent District 2 in the 74th Hunger Games. And, as always, ladies first. I'll just -"

"Stop!" I yell before I can stop myself, ducking under the rope and standing in the middle of the divided male and female section. Titus looks at me in confusion, his hand a mere inch from the top of the fishbowl. The peacekeepers train their guns on me, but I walk forward. "There's no need to choose a name. I volunteer as tribute." I tell him, ignoring the cameras as they focus on me.

Great. I just had to be dramatic about it.

Titus clears his throat, grinning widely. Almost scarily, if I hadn't spent my whole life training to be a mindless killing machine. "Ah, very good! An eager volunteer! Come, come." He waves me to him and I walk with a blank face, climbing up the stairs and standing next to the tall, thin man, looking directly ahead of me. "And what is your name?"

"The name's Minerva. Minerva Smith." He makes a small noise. One of recognition. Everyone knows my name, after last year's Games.

Titus recovers quickly, though, smiling at the crowd. Tatiana begins to clap, her husband joining in. Then comes my trainer, Lyme, a victor of the Games herself. Soon the whole gathering is cheering, and my eyes connect first with Cato, and then his dad, Cassius Hadley, a widower who lost his wife eight years ago to an accident in the quarry. He, along with the Kentwells, played a part in giving me some sort of parental figure. He looks at me, sadness written all over his usually stone-cold face. I refuse to change my facial expression, though. I only hope Cassius Hadley remembers that I care for him.

"Yes, yes, very exciting. Now, for the men." Titus clears his throat as the cheers die down and he struts to the fishbowl containing the names of the District 2 boys. Pulling out a slip he unfolds it and cheerfully reads, "Vulcan Monroe." My eyes widen and I look to the now-started 13-year-old. But before he can even step out from his section, Cato leaps over the rope and practically lunges onto the stage.

"I volunteer as tribute." He smiles with his teeth, a proud look in his eyes. He stands tall and muscular, not so different from most District 2 males, but I suppose I'm biased about how he looks.

Titus is momentarily distracted by the smile that's gotten Cato out of trouble more often than not. He licks his lips and smiles flirtatiously back, watching the 18-year-old climb up the stairs and stand on his other side. "And your name, handsome?"

"Cato Hadley."

"There we have it, ladies and gentlemen. This year's volunteer tributes, Minerva Smith and Cato Hadley!" Our people cheer, and Titus smiles at each of us. "Please, shake hands."

I turn to look up at Cato, who looks down at me, smile still in place but blue eyes grim. He holds out his large limb and I take it in my smaller, the two of us exchanging a strong handshake. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" District 2 continues to cheer, even after Cato and I drop each other's hands and allow Titus and the peacekeepers to lead us into the Justice Building.

It's time to say goodbye, I suppose.


End file.
